The Short Straw
by FlyFirstThinkLater
Summary: He doesn't cut to make himself feel alive. He doesn't do it because he likes the way his flesh scars over. He does it because he has to, because he can't find a way to stop.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a high school AU. It will get angsty and mention self-harm. If that is not for you step away from the fic. Chapters will be short but frequent._

* * *

Upon meeting he doesn't think much of Dean.

Dean with green eyes so bright he has to roll his own a couple of times just so he doesn't scream at the top of his lungs.

Not that he ever would.

Dean's just like _them._

Perfect and the opposite of Castiel.

Castiel who's all pale skin and purple lidded blue eyes that feel raw in their sockets.

Probably because he doesn't sleep much. Hasn't for a while now.

And so on the day that Dean, Dean who's been in his chem class for 2 years now, finally notices him, he doesn't really give the situation all he's got.

It's the old cliché; they're paired up for some shitty assignment Castiel can't really give a fuck about.

So when Dean slumps down next to him, sticks his hand out in some sort of bored greeting, Castiel doesn't take offence.

In fact he doesn't do anything other than stare Dean dead bolt in the eyes as if to say 'Fuck off'.

Dean squares slightly at that. He's not used to this kind of reception and Castiel can tell.

But he doesn't respond with any remark, which disappoints Castiel to say the least.

Then again, Dean doesn't seem like the shiniest jewel with regards to intelligence.

Or at least that's how he makes it seem in chemistry class.

Their assignment sounds pretty simple, long but simple.

Castiel can feel himself counting down the seconds before class is over and he can just get the fuck out of here.

He's tapping his pen insistently against the table watching the minutes pass by when Dean finally snaps.

His fingers grasp Castiel's pen and he hisses "Stop that,"

Castiel twists the pen from his reach defiantly.

"Jesus," Dean mutters turning his attention back to the front of the class.

"Dick," Castiel murmurs, but Dean doesn't pay it any notice.

And for some reason Castiel's all of a sudden glad.

Glad that the prefect Dean Winchester is his chem partner.

Because maybe just maybe he's not the one whose pulled the short straw.

This time it seems he's left that one up to Dean.


	2. Chapter 2

The second time they interact Castiel smells like cigarette smoke.

He thinks that's what triggers it.

The reaction he's been waiting for from Dean.

He's turned up 15 minutes late to chem class purposefully.

They're still paired up for the assignment; the one Castiel can't give two shits about.

He's knows at some point it's going to require some out of class effort.

The idea of having Dean in his home, his room, causes his skin to prickle over.

When he does pull out his notebook Dean shifts towards him fractionally.

"Can I help you?" Castiel snaps.

"You stink," Dean retorts, eyes not meeting Castiel's.

"Good,"

Dean scoffs at that.

"That shit will kill you,"

"That's the idea," He breathes

"Look man, I gotta ask, why are you such a prick?"

Castiel's eyes widen comically, before he shrugs and meets Dean at eye level.

He exhales a slow breath in the other boy's direction.

Let's the stale stench of tobacco linger in the air.

"Fucker," Dean grimaces.

They sit in silence for 5 minutes.

"You ever tried it?" Castiel asks him.

"What?"

"Smoking,"

"No, that shit's a dirty habit,"

Heh, Castiel had a lot of those.

"Pussy,"

Dean actually smirks at that.

"For what? Not wanting to turn my lungs to dust?"

Castiel shrugs.

"No, you do resemble one though,"

Dean doesn't know whether or not he can find it within himself to feel offended, he's finally got the dark haired boy talking, even if it is in insults.

"All pink lips," Castiel explains, eyes drifting towards said facial part.

Dean clears his throat at that.

"Whatever dude," He sighs, before returning to his work.

He doesn't however shift away from Castiel.

* * *

_Slow start, I know. But it will pick up. Other characters and whatnot._

_Anyways, please have patience and review._


	3. Chapter 3

_Some more for those of you who are reading this. Thanks for the reviews, keep them coming._

* * *

Castiel acknowledges that there is something odd about Dean Winchester.

Green eyed Dean.

Dean who makes about as much effort as Castiel does.

Yet somehow Dean is known.

Well liked.

Castiel puts it down to his good looks and rumoured 'slutty' endeavours with a large percentage of the high schools female population.

Not that Castiel listens to rumours.

And even if Dean were a 'slut', it wouldn't be any sweat off of his back.

Perhaps he'd prefer it that way.

Only he'll never know because he'd rather not ask Dean questions, period.

He comes to this conclusion whilst entering his hallway.

The lights are out. But that doesn't mean he's home alone.

He's got a lit cigarette between his lips as he walks along the landing towards the kitchen.

"Castiel?" He hears the voice of Gabriel, his older brother. He's sad to admit he's got more than just the one.

He doesn't reply, too busy inhaling smoke into his lungs.

Gabriel's sat in the dim darkness at the kitchen table.

"I thought it was you, smell of cancer and whatnot,"

Castiel smirks at that.

"I thought I told you no smoking in the house, it stains the walls,"

Castiel flicks ash onto the tiled flooring to emphasise that he sure as hell doesn't care.

"Little shit," Gabriel snaps, but his tone of voice is light. It always is.

"Why are you sitting in darkness?" Castiel enquires.

"Oh, headache,"

"Too many Captain Morgan's again?"

"Shut it you,"

"You should probably go easy on Balthazar's stash,"

"As if that oaf cares,"

Only Balthazar does care and that's why Gabriel does it.

Balthazar is another of Castiel's brothers. Older than Gabriel, but no more grown.

"How was school?" And at that Castiel can tell Gabriel wants nothing more than to be left alone with his sore head in peace.

"Shit," Castiel answers, it's the same one he gives every time Gabriel pretends to be interested.

"Welp, education isn't supposed to be fun Cassy,"

Castiel leaves the kitchen after that.

Gabriel notes that there's some sort of leftovers for him.

But he can't be bothered to eat.

Another cigarette will do him just fine.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks for the reviews. This is a chapter that sheds insight into Castiel's past. You know the drill, reviews very much welcome. _

* * *

_It's only a dream._

His mother lying face down between the cracks of frozen ice.

He's pushed her.

Shoved her onto the thin sheet covering the lake.

But she's a tall woman, heavily boned.

And it can't support her abrupt weight.

So he watches in horror as the ice breaks around her.

She's under, the drop in temperature turning her skin a pale blue.

He's scrambling towards her, but it's to no avail.

Strong hand gripping his shoulders, holding him back.

"It's too late," The voice whispers.

And it's right.

She's stopped struggling.

Her body drifting towards the surface.

He stumbles back from the edge.

Escapes the person behind him.

"Castiel," It's _Lucifer_. "We need to go,"

He can't move, he's paralysed.

But Lucifer's voice is becoming more urgent.

"Come on," He's ordering.

He's pulling Castiel away.

She's dead.

Castiel's killed her.

His throat is constricting, he can't speak. Has no words to say.

It was an _accident. _Wasn't it?

Lucifer's got him on his feet, but Castiel can't turn away from the ice.

"Go," His older brother demands.

_No._

"You were never here,"

Castiel doesn't move.

"Go!" The instruction rocks his core.

Lucifer's hands shake him and then Castiel's running.

Away from what he's done.

Running through darkness.

And then he wakes.

And remembers, he'll never see light again.

Because it's not a dream.

_It's a memory._


	5. Chapter 5

_More Destiel in upcoming chaps I promise. Leave a review if you would. Thank much._

* * *

Castiel doesn't attend school for the next two days.

He leaves the house, but it's all pretence.

He can't really bring it upon himself to learn.

Not now that his sleeping patterns have worsened.

Plagued by thoughts of_ her_.

The reality of his actions.

For she had been wrath.

He was fifth-teen and she had wanted to _drown_ the queer out of him.

She had underestimated him and her grappling hands were like vices.

The only option he'd had was to defend himself.

But he had never meant for it to end with death.

_Of course_ Lucifer had been there.

He was her pride.

Beautiful and the perfect son.

Her death had tainted that however.

Lucifer never did return that night.

For all Castiel knew, he too was dead.

It had been three years.

He wanted to get over it.

But _murderer _still echoed in his head.

For that was what he was.

_Was it not?_

A murderer living among the 'innocent'.

It makes him laugh; the thought doesn't disturb him however.

When he does get home, he's confused to find Dean Winchester on his doorstep.

"Fuck me," Castiel mutters, because this really isn't what he was expecting.

Dean holds up a wad of papers as an explanation.

"Chemistry," He states.

_That fucking project._

"Piss off,"

"No way jerk off, you need to help me get this shit over and done with,"

"Do I?" They're face to face, Dean's slightly taller than Castiel, but he doesn't feel intimidated.

Dean's features are too _pretty_ to be scary right now.

"Yeah," Dean snaps, he shoves the papers at Castiel's chest. "You can't just fucking abandon ship Novak,"

"Is that so Winchester?" Castiel rolls his eyes, he needs a smoke.

"Look, I get that you have some sort of tough guy bravado you like to immerse yourself in, but you and I both know that you're really fucking smart,"

Castiel sniggers at that.

"Come on man, do this and then you'll never have to deal with my shit again,"

He succumbs to that, and pulls out his keys.

But there's a part of him that maybe, just maybe likes dealing with Dean's shit.

Or perhaps it's just Dean Winchester in general.


	6. Chapter 6

_This chapter is lightly longer than usual. Enjoy and don't forget to review with thoughts. _

* * *

Castiel doesn't give Dean the grand tour.

"Come on," He instructs "We can use my room,"

He stalks up the narrow staircase and Dean follows begrudgingly.

His room is small and dark and smells like tobacco.

Castiel cranks open the window slightly and dumps his bag on the bed.

It's unmade; he could probably do with changing the sheets.

He's amused to find Dean loitering by the foot of the bed.

Castiel enjoys the discomfort.

He puts the pretty boy out of his misery.

"Sit down at the desk, I'll go and get another chair,"

He's already bored.

And what Castiel really wants to do is lie down and huff about twenty cigarettes.

Instead, he descends to the kitchen slowly and considers getting Dean a drink before objecting to it.

He's not a fucking hostess, no matter how pretty Winchester is.

His stomach feels empty, but the only edible thing in sight is a two week old loaf.

He passes on that.

Gabriel had better fucking bring something back.

Preferably edible and non-alcoholic.

The house looks poor, and he knows it.

It irks him that Dean gets to see it.

Dean, who probably has a white picket fence surrounding his front porch.

It's disgusting to think about.

So sickly sweet that he gags a little.

He drags the chair upstairs, makes sure to bash each step with the legs on the way up.

He doesn't know why he does it.

Maybe it's fun.

Dean's sitting down when he returns.

He's being oddly obedient.

Castiel pulls up beside him.

"Come on then fucker," He sighs.

Dean smirks at the remark.

Weirdo.

Castiel opens his pack of cigarettes; he's running really fucking low.

He lights ups.

Dean's giving him a somewhat pointed look.

"It's my fucking house" Castiel snaps.

"Whatever, just not in my face,"

Well that's just too tempting.

He puffs out heavily. Dean grimaces and recoils from the cloud.

Castiel chuckles out loud.

Dean eyes him at that before speaking.

"Seriously fuck off,"

"Bite me,"

"Maybe later,"

Dean shuffles through some papers, obviously very unprepared.

"You want a pull?" Castiel's reclining in wait.

"Hell no,"

"Okay,"

He's not one for going down the peer pressure route.

Each to their own.

Dean finds what he's been looking for.

He's been talking about a titration process for the past 7 minutes and 36 seconds.

Castiel's been counting.

"Castiel?" Dean's voice sounds pissy.

Shit.

"Fuck me, I'm bored,"

"I'll take that as a no,"

"Regarding?"

"Whether or not you've been listening,"

"Affirmative,"

Dean leans back in his own chair.

He breaks out into a grin.

"What's so funny?"

"You are,"

"Piss off,"

He turns serious.

"What is it with you? If I had your brains I would fucking ace everything,"

Castiel nods vacantly.

"Am I wasting my time with this?"

"Yes,"

"That's a shame," Dean's getting up from his chair. "I really don't like wasting time,"

Something about his voice sounds predatory.

Castiel can tell it's pretence. Dean needs him.

He's going full out though.

Sighing dramatically as he puts his papers back into his backpack.

"I guess some people don't appreciate how easy they've got it,"

He can't be angry at Dean over the comment.

Because he doesn't know, doesn't know that Castiel's life is literally shit.

Nothing easy about it at all.

"Sit the fuck down Dean,"

"Why?"

"I'll contribute,"

"Really?" Dean's pretending to be unconvinced.

It's annoying as fuck.

"Yeah, but I'm smoking all the cigarettes I want,"

"Deal,"

Castiel helps with the shitty work, it's easy as hell.

Mind numbing too.

But he does it.

Because maybe Dean deserves it for putting up with his moods.

They're almost done when Castiel's stomach grumbles loudly.

Where the fuck is Gabriel?

Half an hour passes.

He hears the front door slam accompanied by the drunken slur of 'Cassy, I'm home,"

And just like that he regrets the thought immediately.


	7. Chapter 7

_Enjoy this next chapter. Like I said it's a very slow build._

* * *

Castiel feels hot all over.

Like the air is being extracted from the room and his lungs are beginning to concave.

Gabriel is here_. _

_Dean is here._

Shit, Fuck, Shit.

"Cassy," Gabriel's voice is nearing.

He stands upright.

Dean is watching him.

"Don't move," Castiel instructs.

No way in hell does Dean get to see _this_.

No fucking way.

He's out the door, slamming it shut.

Gabriel's staggering up the stairs.

"Castiel," Gabriel smiles; he's leaning against the cream wall to keep himself upright.

"Go to bed," Castiel orders, his voice is monotonous.

"M'trying," He defends, shifting forward slightly.

"Downstairs,"

Gabriel's face is confused. His room isn't downstairs.

"I have someone up here," Castiel explains desperately.

He doesn't need this embarrassment.

Gabriel's sparkling eyes widen before he breaks out into a grin.

"Ohhh, lemme see em,"

Gabriel shuffles up two stairs, but Castiel shoves him lightly.

"Hey!" Gabriel bites.

"Go downstairs. Now," He will use force if necessary.

"Whatever," Gabriel is too drunk for any real confrontation.

"Dick," Castiel mutters.

He watches as Gabriel trails downstairs, turning to the dark living room.

He's fuming.

Not that he didn't expect as much.

It's his own fault.

For letting Dean in in the first place.

It was stupid of him to assume otherwise.

He momentarily worries that Balthazar may pull an identical stunt.

But it's only been two days since he fucked off to god knows where, and his benders usually lasted a minimum of four days.

He returns to his room.

Dean hasn't moved.

He takes his place at the desk.

Finishes the last paragraph of the assignment.

He can feel Dean watching him.

Waiting, but he doesn't push.

Castiel's grateful at that.

Not that he needs Winchester's pity.

He doesn't feel sorry for himself.

He hates all that self-pitying shit.

It's his own goddam fault.

"Done,"

Dean looks up.

"Oh?"

"You can piss off now,"

"Castiel-"

"What?"

"I erm- it's nothing,"

That's right.

This is nothing. Castiel's _family_ is not of Dean's concern.

The taller bay awkwardly gathers his stuff.

Castiel lights up his final cigarette.

"I guess I'll be going then," It's like he's questioning Castiel, does he want him to stay?

"Bye," He's not looking at Dean, he's at the window.

"Actually there is something,"

Castiel doesn't turn to look at him.

"God, what?"

"I get it,"

"Get what?"

Just beat it Winchester.

"My dad, he erm, drinks a lot too,"

_Jeeze._

"You mean he's an alcoholic,"

Dean sighs. "Yes,"

Castiel sneers at that "Well what do you want? A fucking high five?"

Dean flinches a little.

"No,"

"I don't need your pity Winchester,"

"I don't fucking pity you, but I know what it feels like to have to deal with shit like that every night,"

Castiel doesn't respond.

"And you can pretend all you want, but we both know it sucks,"

"You don't know the half of it,"

"And you don't know shit about me, so stop being so up yourself,"

Castiel's looking at him now. Actually looking at him.

Dean feels like he's being scrutinized.

Castiel's eyes are dark.

No longer their usual cobalt shade.

"I don't want to know shit about you Dean," His voice is low. "I literally couldn't give a flying fuck,"

"I do,"

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to realise that we're more alike than you think," He's being honest. "That I'm not perfect,"

"Yes you are,"

"My mom died when I was five," he states. "I know you lost your mom too,"

"Don't talk about that bitch,"

"Nobody is perfect Castiel,"

His skin is prickling and he's close to shaking with anger at the mention of his mother. The cigarette butt drops from his hand and he puts it out with his bare foot, hissing slightly in pain.

"Go home Dean,"

He nods.

Dean actually leaves this time.

And Castiel's head is pounding.

He's so utterly confused his vision blurs.

His stomach cries in protest. He ignores it.

He's tired.

But he won't sleep.

He can't.

He never can.


	8. Chapter 8

_Warning: Mentions of self harm and drug use. (Please review, I need to know if this is worth continuing)_

* * *

Balthazar comes home on Sunday.

Just as Castiel had expected.

It's noon when his blonde brother strolls through the front door.

"Castiel," He greets, his throat sounds raw.

_Good._

The bastard deserves it.

He doesn't bother gracing him with a reply.

"Is Gabriel home?"

Castiel stalks off towards the kitchen.

Balthazar follows.

"Silent treatment again Cassy?"

Balthazar's trying to make light.

Castiel wants to hit him.

But he doesn't.

"Come on Cassy,"

He fucking hates that nickname.

"Fuck you," He grunts.

"There we go, let it all out baby,"

Of course Balthazar thinks it's a joke.

It's a sick one.

Where the punch line never quite makes sense.

At least not to Castiel.

Gabriel doesn't look up to greet his older brother as Balthazar takes a seat at the table.

Castiel stands in the doorway.

He doesn't want to be anywhere near them.

The stench of stale alcohol overwhelms him.

But he stays put as there's always the possibility of war between these two.

Especially when there's drink involved.

"Gabriel," He speaks.

"Asshole," Comes his reply.

Castiel tries not to sneer at the hypocrisy of it.

"An asshole that's raked in some cash,"

Gabriel quirks an eyebrow at that.

"Drug money?"

"Always,"

It's shame that Balthazar's deals involve his own requirement in sampling the product.

He places two stacks of tightly packed hundred dollar bills on the table.

"Weed sure sells," Gabriel grins.

But it isn't weed.

It's mother fucking heroin.

And they both know that.

Castiel has seen the needle marks blemishing Balthazar's skin.

Gabriel never does say anything though, for he is in no place to control his brother's actions.

And neither is Castiel.

He doesn't want to hear any more lies, so he fucks off to his room.

At least if there's money on the table, a fight is off it.

He stretches out on his bed, lights up a cigarette.

The smoke he inhales relaxes him.

Sometimes he thinks it would be better if Balthazar overdosed.

Or if Gabriel choked on his own vomit or some shit.

He'd be free.

But he'd be alone.

And deep down he knows that this is their way of grieving.

Grieving the loss of her.

Their mother.

_Theirs._

Not just Castiel's.

For to him she had been cruel.

But to his brothers she was an angel.

Taken from the world by an evil.

Castiel's evil.

That's what she had called his homosexuality.

And often he believes it.

So he lets them cope.

It's the least he can do.

As he has his own mechanisms.

Smoking, yes.

But there is one other.

More effective and direct.

And when he's cutting into his own flesh it empowers him.

He finally has control.

And so he abuses it.

Cuts his skin to ribbons.

Allows the wounds to heal.

Only to punish them once again.


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks again to those of you who have reviewed. Enjoy the update._

* * *

Castiel wakes on Monday morning to find 200 dollars at the base of his door.

It's Gabriel's doing.

And he needs it.

Cigarettes aren't cheap.

The feel of money in his hand lightens his mood.

Fragmentarily.

It's still filthy drug money.

He's alone in the kitchen whilst he eats some cinnamon cereal.

Castiel leaves early to bulk up on tobacco.

He glares upon the disapproving look he receives for purchasing ten packs.

He lights a cigarette in front of the cashier.

"Cunt," Slips from his parted lips.

It's loud enough for the middle aged woman to hear it.

Her eyes narrow.

"It's illegal to smoke in here,"

He sneers at her attempt to be authoritative.

Flicks ash in her direction.

Close enough to make her flinch.

He's being a bastard.

It's a regular occurrence on Mondays.

He's late to school despite his prompt departure.

No one notices.

English drags.

It had once been his favourite subject.

He's stopped liking things lately.

Everything is bitter, with a stale after taste.

It's as if he's lost the will to enjoy.

Everything apart from his smokes.

And his razor.

He's already halfway through his pack of twenty by lunch.

.Castiel's sitting on a bench behind the school, shaded from the sun.

Puffing away.

Dean Winchester appears in front of him.

"Hey," he greets.

Castiel tenses, surprised by his sudden appearance.

What does _he _want?

"Can I have one of those?"

_The fuck?_

Reluctantly Castiel holds the packet out to him.

Dean takes one and places it between his pretty lips.

"Lighter," He mumbles.

Castiel's too busy staring up at him.

"Lighter," He repeats.

Castiel hands it to him.

It's silver.

Hhad once belonged to Lucifer.

"Thanks,"

Dean doesn't return it though.

He fiddles with it.

Castiel watches Dean inhale smoke deep into his lungs.

This isn't his first time.

No way in hell.

Dean sits down on the bench next to him.

They're both silent for a while.

Enjoying the polluted air.

At least Castiel is.

Dean's knee knocks against his.

Castiel meets his eyes.

The white surrounding the green looks pinker than usual.

He pretends not to notice.

"What?" Castiel asks.

"Didn't say anything," Dean replies, exhaling long.

"What's with the sudden change of heart?"

"Guess I'm tired of being boring,"

"And smoking makes you less boring?"

"Nah, but it sure is fun,"

"Thought you hated it,"

"I lied,"

"Oh,"

"I'm trying to quit for my brother's sake,"

Castiel doesn't really care for an explanation, but accepts it anyway.

"You've failed,"

"I know that dick,"

"Well, don't think of this as something that's going to become a regular thing," Castiel doesn't really know what else to say.

"Huh? And here I thought we were going to be best smoking buds," He's being sarcastic.

"Fuck off,"

Dean knocks theirs knees again.

Castiel doesn't say anything about it.

But it does confuse him to hell.

"I guess I wanted to apologise,"

"Don't bother," He's heard enough apologies to last him a lifetime.

"Sorry," Dean apologises anyway.

Castiel's already over it.

"Here," Dean sighs, placing the lighter in Castiel's palm.

He gets to his feet.

Lunch is almost over.

"That brand sucks by the way," He smirks as he turns to leave.

But Castiel doesn't dare crack a smile.

He never does on Mondays.


	10. Chapter 10

_Hello, sorry for the delay. It is exam season after all._

* * *

Dean doesn't speak to him for a while after that.

Castiel doesn't want to be offended.

He honestly doesn't.

But it's not easy.

Not easy when everything irks you so readily.

It's not that he wants Dean to talk to him.

It's the fact that he _has._

He's started something.

And Castiel doesn't like it.

Dean sees him. Sees that he's hurting.

Castiel feels exposed.

Vulnerable.

As if Dean knows what he's done.

Knows how his mother died.

But it's all ridiculous.

Because of course Dean doesn't know.

Castiel doesn't like this paranoia.

He _doesn't_ like Dean.

Everything is distorted, it's too heavy.

It makes him cut.

Just to get the itch to go away.

The itch of Dean.

Only cutting is no use.

He's feeling faint.

But he doesn't stop.

And the itch only runs.

Down his back.

Along his thighs.

And he gives up.

Because he can't cut it all.

When Friday rolls around, Dean decides to_ grace_ Castiel with words yet again.

This time Castiel's in the library.

It's raining outside.

"Hey,"

He ignores the brown haired boy.

"Hey," Dean repeats from across the table.

"Fuck off," Castiel mutters.

"Bitch," Dean huffs.

Castiel looks up to glare at him.

He sees it then.

The dark colouration of Dean's left cheek.

"I could really use a cigarette," Dean smiles.

It's forced.

And Castiel doesn't know if he should do this.

Get involved with Dean's shit.

He doesn't want to.

He can't.

But he's getting to his feet anyway.

"Fine, you fucker," Comes out of his mouth.

Dean follows him.

Into the rain.

It's heavy.

"We can smoke in my car," Dean tells him through the patter.

Castiel nods.

Not that the rain bothers him anyhow.

Dean drives a Chevy Impala.

It's a beautiful car.

Makes Castiel wish he could afford one.

The interior is leather and Castiel feels remorse over getting it wet.

"Thanks," Dean sighs as Castiel passes over a cigarette.

He lights one up too.

Dean rolls down both windows slightly.

The rain splatters in lightly, but Castiel needs somewhere to flick his ash.

They smoke in silence, long drags.

Castiel doesn't want to ask about the bruise.

He ignores it.

"Shit," Dean curses. "My brother's gonna kill me when he gets a whiff off this,"

"Does he go here?"

"Nope, he's private,"

Castiel nods.

Lucky kid.

"Smart little bitch," Dean snorts, but it's fond.

Castiel doesn't say anything.

He's feeling the itch.

The one he's come to associate with Dean.

"Lunch is almost over," He's looking for a way out.

"So?"

He's got a point. Castiel doesn't give three fucks about punctuality.

Dean's acting weird.

Twitchy.

It's putting Castiel on edge.

He's got to ask.

"Dean?"

"Huh?"

"How'd you get that bruise?"

"I thought you were pretending it didn't exist?"

Castiel's lips curl upwards.

"Dad," Dean whispers.

Castiel feels like the smoke in the car is beginning to suffocate him.

Maybe it's Dean.

Dean chuckles out loud.

Castiel looks at him.

His green eyes are glazed over.

Hard and glassy looking.

Dean's finally cracked.

And Castiel has been too quick to judge.

Judge that Dean is the visage of perfection.

"Tell me what to do Dean,"

This isn't the Castiel that Dean knows.

But for five minutes in this Impala Castiel softens.

"Nothing,"

"Then why am I here?"

Castiel is selfish, he needs to know for his own sake.

"You're tainted,"

He's right.

"And maybe we both need somebody,"

Castiel's ready to object.

"Or maybe I just need somebody,"

"Why don't you find yourself a nice whore or something?"

He doesn't quite no why he says it.

Dean's too close. That's why.

"I don't want a whore,"

Dean seems angry.

"I just want a fucking friend, without any expectations,"

"I'm not the right guy Dean,"

"Fuck you,"

"I'm more fucked up than you'll ever be,"

"And?"

"I don't want to burden you with that,"

"You mean you're a fucking pussy,"

"Excuse me?"

"You're scared Castiel,"

"So are you,"

"At least I'm honest about it,"

"I don't _owe_ you anything,"

"I know,"

"This was a bad idea,"

"Maybe you should just go," Dean snaps.

Castiel does.

He leaves the Impala and walks home in the rain.

He's not ready for Dean.

Dean or the itch.


	11. Chapter 11

_There will be more angst to come after this chapter. Just a fair warning._

* * *

Gabriel is unconscious when Castiel gets home.

Balthazar is drinking tea in the kitchen.

"Why are you home so early?"

"Am I?"

"Yes,"

Castiel shrugs.

Like Balthazar gives a fuck.

"So?"

"Huh?" Castiel's picking through some pasta.

"You, home, early, why?"

"Headache,"

"Bullshit,"

"Whatever," His mouth is full of pesto covered penne.

"Gabriel's been out all morning,"

"What's new?"

Balthazar hums in agreement.

"I'm heading out tonight," He tells Castiel.

_Great._

"I should be back by tomorrow morning,"

He says it steadily, like he's promising Castiel this isn't going to be one of those times.

Castiel nods, eyes on his pasta.

It's suddenly too salty.

"Are you alright for cash Cassy?" Balthazar asks.

Castiel doesn't respond.

"Castiel?"

He's thinking about _Dean._

"I'm fine," He snaps.

Balthazar eyes him warily.

"Leave some pasta for Gabriel; he'll be fucking starving when he wakes up,"

And with that he leaves the kitchen.

_And Castiel._

Gabriel doesn't wake up before Balthazar leaves.

Castiel watches him for 10 minutes.

His small form doesn't move.

But he's breathing.

Lying on his front to ensure he doesn't choke on any upchuck.

Castiel doesn't stay home.

He cannot spend another evening in his room.

He's too cut up to even touch.

Fucking Dean and his stupid itch.

Dean, Dean, Dean.

_"I just want a fucking friend, without any expectations,"_

Castiel doesn't have friends.

Dean does.

Why does he need another in Castiel?

_Because Castiel relates._

It's fucking with his head.

His inner voice merging into the sound of Dean's.

Cunt.

It's guilt.

He's feeling guilty.

Again.

He hasn't done anything but protect himself.

He needs to protect himself.

From Dean, his brothers, life.

Castiel never really follows a path.

Just walks and walks.

Thinks maybe he'll walk far enough.

But he's conditioned.

Conditioned to return home.

"Castiel?"

And great.

He's hearing Dean's voice now.

"Castiel?"

Only this time it's louder and it's real.

And Castiel isn't walking anymore.

He's lying flat against grass.

He's fucking fainted.

What a pansy.

He's fucking fainted in public.

His vision is hazy.

What is Dean doing here?

What is Castiel doing here?

"You alright?"

Castiel nods.

But of course he isn't fucking alright.

"Are you going to get up?"

Castiel nods again.

He doesn't move.

"Anytime this year would be nice,"

"Fuck off Winchester,"

He can see Dean smile.

Castiel sits up.

His head is aching.

Dean crouches in front of him.

"Need a hand?"

"No fucking way,"

Castiel braces himself and then heaves to his feet.

Dean places a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"Are you fucking stalking me?"

Dean huffs out a laugh.

"You wish Novak,"

They stand in silence.

It's dark.

"So what are you doing here?"

Castiel doesn't believe in coincidence.

"I don't know," Dean sighs. "I like this park at night,"

"Weirdo," Castiel snorts.

But he gets it. He likes it too.

"I'm-"

"Don't," Castiel cuts him off.

He doesn't want Dean to be one of those people who feel the need to apologise for an action they felt was justified.

Dean looks slightly miffed.

Castiel's over it.

"I can't believe you actually fainted man,"

Castiel chuckles at that.

Dean joins him.

And they laugh for about 30 seconds under the light of the moon.


	12. Chapter 12

_I know the build up is slow. But patience young ones. The good stuff is still to come. _

_P.S Reviews would be helpful/ any ideas on where you think the story will go._

* * *

They sit side by side on a low park bench for a while.

Castiel's smoking.

Dean isn't.

"You sure you don't want one?"

Dean looks longingly at the lit cigarette between Castiel's parted lips.

He shakes his head.

"Gotta quit for my brother,"

"Ever think about doing something for yourself?"

Dean gives him a pointed look.

"Do_ you?_"

Touché Winchester.

"Besides, I don't see how poisoning my lungs counts as 'doing something for myself' "

Castiel shrugs.

He hands Dean the rest of the carton anyway.

It's nearly empty.

"In case you change your mind," He explains.

"I won't," Dean sighs.

But he tucks the small box into his jacket pocket.

"Tell me something about you," Dean suggests.

Castiel raises his eyebrows at that.

"Fuck off,"

"Come on man, it's not like I want nudes," Dean smirks.

Castiel's cheeks feel slightly flush at the thought.

He thinks momentarily.

"I really like jelly,"

"Jelly?"

Castiel nods.

Dean chuckles loudly.

"That's deep dude,"

"I'm an ocean," Castiel drawls.

"I personally prefer pie,"

Castiel contemplates this.

"Pie works too,"

He almost can't believe how trivial of a conversation they're having.

Dean's knee knocks against his.

It's the fourth time this evening.

Castiel plays it as accidental.

At least it had better be.

He's not really fond of the whole touching thing.

Not with the state his skin's in.

But _this_ doesn't unnerve him.

It just is what it is.

"I hope I can find a way to be myself someday," Dean remarks quietly.

Trivial is knocked out of the equation.

"Who are you now if not yourself?"

"I don't know,"

The atmosphere is too intense again.

Dean is too intense.

Their knees knock again and Castiel's suddenly standing upright.

"I need to go,"

Dean's not stupid.

"I shouldn't have said that,"

"It's not that, I just have to go now,"

Dean accepts that.

Castiel begins to walk away.

He notices that Dean doesn't move.

"Aren't you going home?" He calls across the short distance in the dark.

"I can't,"

"Well why not?"

"It'll just be me and the old man,"

Castiel remembers the bruises scattering Dean's freckled cheek.

He knows what it feels like to go home to fear.

And though Dean seems physically strong, Castiel can sense his mind can't quite take the abuse.

Because that's what it is.

_Abuse._

He abuses himself.

"Come home with _me_,"

"Huh?"

He hadn't quite meant to phrase it _that _way.

"Won't that be kind of weird?"

"It doesn't have to be,"

_Castiel won't offer again._

Dean wants to say something like 'we're not even friends,' but instead he joins Castiel.

xxxx

Castiel panics about Gabriel's state and Dean's viewing of it.

This is a stupid idea.

He is stupid.

Dean Winchester is stupid.

Dean Winchester is _vulnerable._

Once they're inside Castiel shoos Dean upstairs with a "You remember where my room is right?"

Gabriel isn't on the couch anymore.

The fucker's alive.

Castiel sacrifices some food from hell's kitchen and heads to his room.

He's halfway there when he hears.

"And who are you exactly?"

It's Gabriel voice, rough from a hangover.

Castiel takes the last few steps in twos.

"This is Dean," He interjects before Winchester can open his pretty mouth.

They're standing on the landing outside his bedroom door.

"Cassy, you didn't tell me you were having _friends _over,"

Gabriel looks like shit.

His hair is greasy and his eyes are swollen.

Castiel wants to hit him.

"It wasn't planned,"

"So do you have a last name Dean?"

"Uh yeah, it's Winchester,"

"Winchester? You're John's son?"

"One of them,"

"Well goodnight Gabriel," Castiel attempts.

"I knew your daddy,"

"Knew?"

"Used to work for him down at the garage for some time,"

"It's a small town," Dean smiles politely.

"He _fired _me,"

"Because you know fuck all about cars Gabriel," Castiel snaps.

Gabriel glares at him.

"He know you're here?" He returns his attention to Dean.

"He's not really the tab keeping type,"

Gabriel smirks slightly at that.

"You boys behave yourselves," His tone is teasing, but there's an air of menace about it.

Gabriel pushes past Castiel and disappears downstairs.

Castiel shoves Dean lightly into his room.

He locks the door behind him.

He doesn't need Gabriel bursting in at any given moment.

"Food?" Castiel offers, holding up the sliced bread and peanut better he's been holding.

Dean smiles at the sight of it.

"What? No jelly?"


	13. Chapter 13

_Hola people. Suprise twist! This is going to be in Dean's pov. Thought I'd mix things up. Read on and let me know if Dean's Pov is something you enjoy and if I should do more of it. If not, then I'll stick to Castiel._

* * *

Dean doesn't know what to make of Gabriel.

He's a small man.

Much smaller than Castiel or himself.

But his eyes, they hold ferocity.

The kind that Dean expects from a caring older brother.

And that doesn't make much sense to him.

Because from what Dean has gathered Gabriel doesn't seem to be all that loving towards Cas.

It's an odd dynamic.

But he pushes it aside because there is a more prominent problem at hand.

_Castiel._

Accepting his friendship.

Or at least that's what it feels like to Dean.

It _is_ what he wants.

But he doesn't really know how to go about confirming it.

Because it doesn't feel like any other friendship he's embarked upon.

He wonders if it's the same for Castiel.

Only to realise that Castiel doesn't have friends.

He doesn't _do _people.

But he's warming up to Dean.

Or so he hopes.

Dean really likes him.

He gets that Castiel is suffering.

And for some reason that makes this all a whole lot easier.

Not that he'd ever wish this kind of situation on anybody.

It just comforts him to know that he isn't the only one who benefits from some real company.

Where all _his_ pretences can be laid to rest.

Castiel still seems to want to guard a part of himself.

Dean doesn't resent him for that.

He'll give him time.

Dean's always been very patient.

Always been willing to take the fall for someone else.

Especially if that someone else is Sammy.

Because Dean won't let _him _get to his little brother.

No way in hell will John ever lay a finger on that kid.

Not while Dean still lives and breathes.

John never would though.

It's Dean that he despises.

Dean's the dumb one.

The one whose friends with too_ many_ girls for his father's liking.

It's not that he like the girls per say.

More the comfort of being away from his dad.

Away from the violence that awaits him at home.

_Home._

No place like it.

xxxx

Castiel makes Dean sleep on the floor.

It doesn't bother him.

He's slept on many floors before.

They don't really talk much prior to sleep.

Castiel is hungry and tired.

So is Dean.

It's not awkward, but it is weird.

Castiel's room smells musty and warm.

Dean likes it.

He doesn't fall asleep though.

He counts as the time passes by.

He gets that feeling.

The one where you know the other is awake.

He wants to clarify it.

Dean likes clarification.

"Cas?"

Nothing…

"Shhh," Comes the delayed response.

Dean is staring up at ceiling, he breaks out into a smile.

"Wait, what?"

"Just wondering if you were awake,"

"No, what did you just call me?"

_Cas._

Shit.

Dean hasn't tried that one out loud before.

"Cas,"

There's silence.

"Okay," It sounds reluctant.

Relief rolls over him.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I don't,"

_Don't?_

"Everyone sleeps,"

"It's called long term insomnia Dean,"

"Do you ever sleep?"

"I try,"

"Shit,"

"I can nap,"

"I see,"

But to be honest he really doesn't.

"And yet you still had to take the bed,"

"It's my fucking bed,"

"You're not putting it to proper use,"

"And I suppose you would?"

"Hell yeah, I'd sleep like a baby,"

"No,"

"No?"

"It's my bed,"

"But-"

"You're not even fucking asleep,"

"How can I sleep when we're having a very heated debate?"

"Debate my ass,"

Dean chuckles quietly under his breath.

"Stop laughing,"

Dean does.

They return to silence for a while.

"I don't think your brother likes me very much,"

"Why don't you cry about it?" He snarks.

Tired Castiel is even snappier than usual.

And at this moment he'd take a snappy Cas over a violent John.

Dean fingers the bruise on his face.

It's sore to touch.

"Does that hurt?"

Castiel is sitting up, watching him.

Dean can make out his thin frame in the darkened room.

"Nah,"

He lies, lifting his torso up.

Castiel rolls his eyes, before leaning over and turning on a bedside lamp.

Dean squints as the light attacks his eyes.

Fuuuuck.

The room is relatively warm.

Castiel is wearing long sleeves.

Dean doesn't think much of it.

He watches the dark haired boy traipse over to the shabby black desk looking for cigarettes.

He's always smoking.

Dean enjoys it too.

But to Castiel it's an evident addiction.

Castiel sits at the desk smoking.

He's watching Dean.

He holds the cigarette out to him with a quirked eyebrow.

Dean shakes his head.

He's made a promise to Sammy.

Castiel shrugs, and goes back to watching him as he inhales.

Dean's skin suddenly feels a whole lot clammier.

He doesn't really know what to say.

"Stop staring,"

Is what he goes for.

Castiel doesn't.

"You're creeping me out,"

Castiel's lips quirk around his cigarette.

"Good,"

"How would you like it if I stared at you like that?"

Castiel tilts his head to the side slightly.

"I haven't got anything to hide," He remarks nonchalantly.

It's a blatant lie.

And they both know it.

"You're pretty," Castiel states, he's still staring.

_What?_

"Gee thanks,"

"I don't like it,"

"Sorry?"

It's too late for this shit.

"Don't apologise for genetics Dean,"

"What do you mean, you don't like it?"

"Forget about it,"

"I don't want to,"

Castiel huffs out air.

"You're _too_ pretty,"

_Right._

"Is that even possible?"

"Boys shouldn't be so pretty,"

Dean is still thoroughly confused.

"I don't dislike the prettiness, more rather the fact that it makes me feel as though I should be nice to you,"

It's the most he's ever heard Castiel say in one sitting

"How so?"

"No one likes to be the one to ruin pretty things,"

"And that's what you think you'd do? Ruin me,"

"Of course,"

He sounds so certain.

"Friends don't ruin each other Cas,"

"I never said I'd do it on purpose,"

_Oh._

"What makes you think it won't be the other way around,"

Castiel smiles sadly.

"You can't ruin something that's already broken,"

xxxx

When Dean wakes up Castiel is gone.

He panics momentarily before realising that this is Cas's house.

He wouldn't just abandon Dean here.

_Would he?_

He figures he's go nothing to lose by going downstairs.

Dignity was expelled from his being a long time ago.

Castiel is in the kitchen.

This time he's accompanied by another male.

One with dark blonde hair and of a greater height than Gabriel.

"Mornin," He mumbles at Cas and the stranger.

Another brother no doubt.

Castiel looks up at him.

He doesn't bother to respond.

Politeness is not his forte Dean's noticed.

"Hello," The blonde man speaks.

"Balthazar this is Dean,"

_Balthazar?_

What is it with these names?

"And who is Dean to you exactly?"

Castiel rolls his eyes.

"A friend,"

Dean doesn't know if he's saying that because it's true or because it's an easy excuse in front of _Balthazar._

"Well then it's very nice to meet you Dean,"

He's nicer than Gabriel that's for sure.

"Likewise," Dean smiles tightly, biting into some toast that Castiel hands to him.

"I didn't think you had any _friends_ Cassy,"

"I don't,"

"But Dean, he's an exception?"

They're talking about him like he's not even in the fucking room.

It's unnerving.

"Evidently," Castiel drawls.

He looks bored.

"What about you Dean, what do you think of Cassy?"

Suddenly Balthazar doesn't seem so nice after all.

"Cut it out," Castiel scolds.

"I have every right to question the presence of a stranger in my home,"

Dean's toast is cold.

"He's not a stranger,"

"Don't hurt him Dean,"

Dean looks at the older man.

"Balthazar fuck off,"

But he's ignoring him.

He's looking at Dean with a deep concern.

Like he can sense his destruction.

"He's already suffering,"

"This is bullshit," Castiel is angry.

_Embarrassed._

That Balthazar would expose him like this.

But Dean sees it for what it really is.

_A warning._

Balthazar wants to protect Castiel.

But it rings clear in Dean's mind.

Balthazar's telling Dean to protect himself.

Because if Dean hurts Castiel, Castiel will only return the favour.

And being _too pretty _won't save him.


	14. Chapter 14

_This one's a bit weird. Let me know what you all think._

* * *

He doesn't hang around.

Dean feels marginally guilty about aborting the situation.

But hell.

It's not like he has much other choice.

Castiel grasps his wrist at the front door.

Squeezes it for a second.

And Dean knows that this is his version of an apology.

So he lets Castiel's fingers linger against his tan flesh.

Because it's the first time they've ever had skin on skin contact.

The white of Castiel is pure.

His fingers are cold.

Their softness contrasting with the icy feel.

He can't even offer up a weak smile.

Balthazar's warning is like a siren.

'_Don't hurt him Dean.'_

_**Because he'll hurt you.**_

It's Dean's own added after thought.

But the older brother had sure been implying that message silently.

"I'll see you around,"

Castiel is frowning.

"Are you going to ignore me again?"

Dean can feel himself blush. Maybe for a while.

"No," He lies.

Castiel removes his hand.

"I thought this is what _you _wanted?" he sounds frustrated.

_Angry._

Dean rubs at his green eyes.

"It was your fucking idea to be friends," Castiel continues quietly, voice sour.

"I know,"

"You-You can't just change your mind,"

It's the first time he's ever heard the other boy stutter.

"I'm not, I haven't,"

"_Right,_"

"Look Cas,"

"Don't call me that,"

Fuck he's upset.

"_Castiel_, please,"

"Please what? Let you lose? Whatever Dean, fuck you,"

Dean groans in annoyance.

"I can't handle this okay?"

Castiel swallows.

His blue eyes are staring straight at him.

They're so so blue.

Dean can't bare it.

"That's fucked up Dean,"

He knows.

"Maybe your brother is right,"

Castiel glares at him for a feeling second.

"We're going to hurt each other Dean, because it's a primary part of friendship, It's fucking inevitable. Fuck I don't even have any friends and I know that,"

Dean watches him.

Because he's realising now that Castiel isn't as weak as he had initially thought.

Vulnerable? Yes.

But weak? No.

Dean wishes he had that emotional strength.

Castiel sighs in defeat.

"I'm not going to beg you,"

"Not even a little?"

And Dean finally cracks a smile.

Because he's being a pansy and now is as good a time as any to snap out of it.

"You wish Winchester,"

But Cas is smiling, albeit only a little, too.

"I've really got to get going,"

And with that said Dean leaves somewhat content.

He still finds himself questioning as to whether or not the outcome of his relationship with Castiel is going to be one of success.

Or if it's even friendship he wants.

xxxx

When Dean gets home Sammy is there.

It's a relief to see his little brother.

John's still at work.

He thanks the high heavens.

Not that he's religious.

"Hi," Sam mumbles, he's sat on the couch, laptop in hand.

"Hey," Dean returns, slouches down next to the brown haired kid.

"You weren't here when I got home," Sam notes, he's still staring at the bright screen, typing away.

"I stayed at a friend's,"

Sam grins.

"She nice?"

"_He_ is,"

"I didn't know you _had_ male friends Dean,"

"What can I say? I'm moving up in the world Sammy," He stretches his legs out in front of him.

"What's his name?"

"Castiel," Dean grunts out.

"That's…"

"A mouthful?" Dean offers.

"I was going to say interesting,"

"Bitch,"

"Jerk,"

There's a moment of comfortable silence.

"Well I'm happy for you," Sam concludes

"Gee thanks,"

The kid sure acts older than fourteen.

"I had a great night, thanks for asking,"

"I was getting there,"

"Go ahead; take your time old man,"

"I'm eighteen," Dean defends, feigning offence.

"I asked Jess to be my girlfriend," Sam confesses quietly.

Dean grins with pride.

"Well look at you Romeo," He nudges Sam's shoulder.

Sam looks down sheepishly.

"Want some dinner?" Dean asks, he doesn't need the juicy detail just yet.

Sam nods enthusiastically.

"Let me know if you need any advice on kissing," He calls to his younger brother from the adjacent room.

"Gross!" Sam shouts back and Dean bursts out laughing.

xxxx

The happiness is short lived.

It always is.

John comes home.

Drunk.

Sam's in his room.

Dean isn't.

And now there isn't enough time for him to evade the older Winchester.

John sits in an armchair.

"Where were you last night?" The words come out in a string of slurs.

But Dean's had years of practise at depicting the tongue.

"A friend's," He mumbles, eyes counting his toes.

"Another slut huh?"

Dean doesn't want to talk to him like this.

Dean never wants to talk to him.

"No," He states.

"Don't lie to me boy,"

"M'not," He mumbles.

"Look at me,"

Dean doesn't.

"How was she?"

"I wasn't with a girl," Dean insists.

He knows it's pointless.

"I don't work seven days a week for you to whore around,"

He hates him.

Dean's flesh is burning.

And in a moment of anger he silently wishes death upon the man.

There's silence.

He looks across the distance between them.

John is unconscious.

Dean moves to stand above his hefty form.

He lowers the zipper of his jeans.

Urinates over his father's legs.

Before retreating to his bed.

xxxx

_He's swimming._

_He loves the water._

_But this, this is an ocean of blood._

_And then he's pulled under._

_Gulping for air._

_Only he's swallowing the warm liquid._

_It's coppery and foul._

_But he can't stop taking it down._

_It's the only way to get back up._

_To drink through it all._

_So he keeps going._

_Until his stomach feels so full of it._

_Full of blood._

_And then he's choking on it._

_Choking on blood, whilst swimming in an ocean of it._

"_Dean!"_

_Someone's calling out to him._

_But he's too busy dying._

_Bleeding from the inside out._

_Bleeding a blood that isn't even his._

xxxx

Dean ignores the dream.

He ignores the fact that it's the most disturbing dream he's ever had.

Because who's going listen to him spiel about an ocean of blood?

_No one._

That's who.

So he's silent as he drops Sam off at school.

And he's silent throughout his first period.

Dean contemplates being silent forever.

Until it's lunch and he goes looking for Cas.

He's where he always is.

A lonesome bench, smoking his way through a ten pack.

"Hey," Dean breathes false happiness into the greeting.

Castiel shuffles over to let Dean sit.

They sit.

No words exchanged until Dean says

"I pissed on my dad last night,"

Castiel stops mid inhalation.

His eyes brows rise in surprise and a vague intrigue.

"He was completely out of it," He sighs, as if that justifies it.

"Why would you do that?"

"He deserved it,"

Castiel doesn't judge.

Simply nods his head.

"I don't- I've never done it before,"

"You don't need to explain yourself to me Dean,"

"He was just being such a prick you know?"

Castiel's eyes look sad.

"Yeah,"

Dean barks out a dry laugh.

"And then I had the weirdest dream,"

"What did you see?" He asks.

"Blood," Dean mutters, and his hands tremble

"I don't really dream," Castiel tells him.

"Well aren't you lucky,"

Castiel ignores the bitter undertones.

"It's just a memory, repeating itself,"

"Must be pretty significant,"

"Not really," Castiel murmurs.

Dean doesn't bother questioning the lie.


	15. Chapter 15

_It's another chap based on Dean's POV._  
_Castiel's will be back in the next chapter._  
_I'm going to be updating every Sunday as of this week. :)_

* * *

His mind of thinks of kissing Castiel.

It's accidental.

Dean can almost feel his father's extra blow that a thought like this would earn.

He's not a homosexual.

It's a simple as that.

And he blames the idea of plump pale lips pressed against his own on the fact that he sees Castiel's person more than he does his gender.

Because really, it's the first remotely bicurious thought he's ever had in his life.

Dean _prays_ for it to be the last.

Hell is raised when his father meets him consciousness fully regained.

Because in all the years, an inebriated John Winchester has never lacked bladder control.

"You're a filthy bitch," and three sharp punches to his ribs follow.

He doesn't deny it when questioned.

He doesn't say a word.

Dean's learnt that much.

So he takes the beating he knew was coming like the giant pussy that he is.

He doesn't look at John and thinks of something, anything else.

And that's how the words 'Castiel' and 'kiss' become associated with one another.

When John is done, his breath is ragged and he leaves the house.

Because it's _Dean_ who's the disgusting one.

Dean spends the next twenty-two minutes on the living room floor face down.

He thinks he could stay like this forever.

He doesn't.

Sammy's due home and he doesn't deserve to be greeted with this.

He knows it goes on.

But Dean denies all knowledge of it.

If anything it's to protect the kid.

Not like he thinks of it as a special something that he and 'daddy' _share_.

So when the knock on his door happens he cradles his left side inconspicuously and rolls his eyes.

Sam hasn't lost his keys.

That's nowhere near his style.

Because it's not Sam at all.

It's Castiel.

Of all people.

And how does he know where Dean lives?

He doesn't even wait for Dean to let him in.

Just shimmies past him and gifts him with the sternest look he's had all day.

"You're not the pepperoni I ordered," Dean quips, but Castiel doesn't do bullshitting.

"You skipped out on me after lunch,"

"Sorry," Dean mumbles "Didn't realise we were official,"

"Fuck you Dean Winchester,"

"Heh, you wouldn't be the first,"

Castiel _actually _blushes at that, as if the thinking about Dean committing a sexual act is enough to make him flare fifty shades of _red._

Dean's never brought up the topic of sex with Cas before. It's the, unaccounted for, desire to kiss him that's done it.

"You don't offer to give a guy a ride home and the bail, that's not very courteous,"

Since when had Dean given off the impression that he was the courteous type?

It's his aching ribs that are making him moody.

And who can blame him?

They stand face to face in silence.

"Should I be worried about the fact that you know where I live?"

It's his way of asking how Cas knows.

Castiel ignores it.

The pain in Dean's side dulls his peaked intrigue.

"As much as I appreciate the visit Cas, now's not the best time,"

"There is no 'best' time, only time itself and I for one appreciate wasting it,"

"Doesn't mean you have to waste mine, buddy,"

"Actually, I do, _buddy,_"

"Why?"

"I'm purely living up to my end of this friendship,"

"What you're saying is that you have no real reason for your visit,"

"Yes Dean, thank you got that clarification,"

Dean's mood brightens at that.

He turns towards the couch but Castiel stops him.

"Not here, your room,"

Dean's heart hammers a little.

The word 'kiss' comes to mind and he beats like his dad would him.

Dean's room is smaller than Cas's.

It's a dark green,

There's a slightly larger than single bed pressed against the far wall beneath his window.

It's cracked.

Castiel sits on the bed immediately.

The polar opposite of Dean the first time he'd stepped foot in his room.

Dean takes up the space next to him.

Stretching out his legs, he winces at the vibration pulsing up his side.

Of course Castiel notices.

Because he notices _everything _that Dean wishes he wouldn't.

"When?" He asks.

It's pretty easy to get the gist of what he's enquiring about.

"About an hour ago,"

Castiel stiffens.

"I pissed on the guy remember?" Dean jokes and Castiel's clenched jaw grinds down.

He nods tightly "I'm guessing that's why you don't play any sports,"

It's so irrelevant it's laughable.

"What's your excuse?" Dean smirks.

Castiel swallows visibly, tense as hell.

_What's gotten into him?_

"I would show you, but you wouldn't understand," he stammers out, so unlike Cas.

Dean can tell he regrets it entirely.

"What do you mean?" Dean's body shifts to face the fair skinned teen.

"Forget it,"

"Cas-"

"I said leave it," His tone is dark.

He's up off the bed then.

Pacing a little.

"I need a smoke,"

"Okay," Dean will let Castiel have whatever he wants.

He's freaking out inside.

_What is Cas hiding?_

He doesn't care than Sam will probably throw a hissy fit if he discovers the smell.

Or that John will rain down upon him again later on tonight.

He just wants Castiel to be content.

Cas stands and smokes.

Minutes pass by.

He smokes another and then two more.

He doesn't offer one to Dean.

"You done?" Dean questions.

Castiel seems a hell of a lot more relaxed now.

He nods.

"Sorry,"

"What was that?"

"I apologised,"

"What for?"

"Whatever the hell I just did,"

"It's no problem,"

"Dean,"

"Yeah Cas?"

"I will explain, just not today," He says it slowly.

Like he's jumped into a river on impulse only to realise the water is colder than he initially thought.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me,"

"I know, but I would like to,"

Dean smiles at that.

"I'd like that too,"

Another minute of silence.

"Are you going to keep standing there?"

Castiel realises himself and returns to his earlier position.

Their shoulders touch.

The room is smoke filled.

Sam is going to bitch at this for sure.

"I want to meet your dad,"

Dean pales at the thought.

"Why?"

"He angers me," Castiel replies shortly with a shrug of his shoulders.

"He angers me too,"

Castiel flexes his long fingers.

Dean watches the movement.

"Nice ring," He murmurs, noticing the silver band on Cas's left index finger.

"It was my brother's,"

"Which one?"

"Lucifer," Castiel sighs.

Dean snorts a little.

"Really?"

"What?"

"You have a brother called _Lucifer_?"

"I _did_," Castiel emphasises. No traces of humour.

In fact he looks pained.

"Oh,"

"He's not dead,"

Dean nods for a moment.

"At least, I don't think he is,"

Dean doesn't really know what to say.

"What happened to him?" Is what he goes for.

"He just sort of… left,"

"And you don't know why?"

"No," Castiel concludes abruptly.

Case closed.

But Dean doesn't quite think that's the full extent of it.

He's learning not to push though where Castiel is concerned.

He's like a pet.

Leave him alone for long enough and he'll soon start searching for attention.

So that what Dean is kind of doing.

Leaving all matters alone until Castiel _wants _to bring them up.

Dean doesn't know whether the control lies with him or with Cas.

Maybe there is no control.

_Control._

It's a fucked up thing.

A _horrible_ thing.

"Dean!?"

And it's not Cas calling.

It's Sam.

Good old Sammy.

"It's my brother," Dean explains, half sure that Castiel already knows that.

There's a weak knock on Dean's door before it flies open.

"Dean have you been- oh,"

"Hi," Castiel greets shortly.

"Hello,"

Dean wants to laugh at the surprise on Sam's face.

He bites into his cheek instead.

"This is my friend Castiel," Dean introduces.

Sam remembers the name.

"Nice to meet you,"

Castiel nods his head.

Dean mentally scolds his tendency to disregard manners.

Dean doesn't move from his position.

Neither does Castiel.

Sam hovers awkwardly in the door way.

"You were going to ask me something?"

Dean's knows it was going to regard the smell.

"Never mind," Sam mumbles.

But the glare he gives Dean makes it very clear that they _will _be discussing this later.

Castiel looks amused.

"He's tall," Is all the he offers up.

"He eats a lot of salad,"

"Gross,"

Dean snorts ungraciously at that.

"Tell me about it,"

"Speaking of food…"

"You hungry?"

"Ravenous," Cas grins, pointy white teeth on display.

Something about the way he says it makes Dean shiver involuntarily.

Castiel doesn't notice.

Or so Dean hopes.

He takes Cas to the kitchen.

Sam is sat at the table.

He's doing homework.

Nothing new.

He looks up at the two of them.

Then returns to his work.

Castiel sits opposite him.

Dean gets to work on some sandwiches.

He listens closely to the silence.

Castiel begins tapping his cigarette carton on the table top.

"Those are bad for you," It's Sam's voice.

Castiel doesn't respond immediately.

"Isn't that the whole point?"

"Why would you _want_ to shorten your life span?"

"Sammy," Dean warns, as he places a plate in front of Castiel.

He sits down too.

"Death is…inevitable,"

Jeeze.

_Why_ is Cas always so fucking deep?

"Then surely you should make the most of life, no?"

It's too weird for words.

They've only just met and a debate is already ensuing.

"That's why I'm friends with Dean," Castiel says bluntly.

Dean doesn't know whether or not he's taking the piss.

Sam looks taken aback.

And then he smiles briefly.

"How've you been Cas?"

_What the actual fuck?_

"Same old," He shrugs.

"I'm sorry what?" Dean interrupts.

Sam laughs for a few seconds.

Castiel's lips twitch.

"I _know _your brother Dean," He offers up as an explanation.

Dean is dumfounded.

"_How_?"

"The book store by dad's garage," Sam grins.

"What about it?"

"I used to work there part time for a few months last year," Cas tells him "Sam was a regular,"

"So that whole initial meeting was a charade?"

"You should have seen your face," Sam smirks.

"Bitch,"

"Jerk,"

"Assbutts,"

* * *

_I hope this wasn't too out of character for the guys.  
It all has its part to play.  
Trust me._


	16. Chapter 16

_Some pretty descriptive self bodily harm described within this. Sorry if the story is slow but I think the pace that has been set is suitable for the plot._

* * *

Castiel doesn't get to meet John Winchester.

He decides it's for the better.

Dean offers for him to stay the night.

But no.

He's feeling itchy.

And there's the risk.

That Dean will see them.

His scars.

Because it's not _his _environment.

And he doesn't know if he's ready for the lack of protection.

He doesn't like the fact that recently he's been running around after Dean.

There's just something about him.

Castiel wants to be close to him.

He's never felt this want before.

He gags on the cringe of it all.

"_I'm glad Dean's got a friend like you Cas,"_

Sam had said to him before he had left.

And – _"He really likes you,"_

Castiel thinks he understood undertones from that one.

But he brushes it off.

Because Dean doesn't like boys.

He's heard about the Winchester's many endeavours.

It rouses feelings, _jealousy,_ within him that it hasn't done prior.

He doesn't blame himself.

Dean is _very _attractive.

And Castiel is only a teenage boy.

It doesn't mean he has to act on it and cause Dean discomfort.

Dean probably, _definitely_, has the exact same thoughts about most, if not all, the pretty girls in their year.

It's just one of those things.

Besides, if he can barely hack a friendship, how on earth would he handle a commitment of such terms?

_He wouldn't._

It's times like these where the guidance of an older sibling would fare well.

But Castiel would rather sacrifice his soul, what's left of it, to Satan than listen to Gabriel boast about his sexual prowess.

And though he can't believe he's doing this, Castiel actually seeks out Balthazar when he gets home.

Because he deserves some closure on this.

"Where have you been Cassy?" His blonde brother asks upon his arrival.

Gabriel's reading on the couch.

Balthazar's eating a sandwich in the kitchen.

"I was with Dean," He doesn't bother lying.

It _is_ Dean whom he wishes to converse about.

He ignores the look of annoyance on Balthazar's face.

"I don't like you spending time with that boy,"

"Tough shit," _I don't like anything you do._

"His dad caused a lot of trouble for Gabriel work wise,"

"Dean isn't his father,"

"What is it they say? Like father like son,"

"If that's true then we're fucked,"

"From birth," Balthazar grins wickedly.

Castiel doesn't reciprocate with any smile.

"Are you and he… an _item_?"

Both older brothers are fully aware of Castiel's preferences.

"Dean'sa heterosexual,"

"That disappoints you," Balthazar smugly observes.

"It sure makes you happy,"

"Well I don't like him,"

"You don't know him,"

"I like to judge by covers Cassy,"

Castiel stares at him for a moment.

"Listen, I can't control what, or whom you do. Whether that be Dean Winchester or somebody else,"

Castiel rolls his eyes.

"But, you're my little brother, and though this relationship may be a dysfunctional one, I do want your happiness,"

Castiel _knows_. He doesn't like to knowledge it, but he knows its truth.

"Therefore, if it is my unbiased advice that you are after, then I suggest that you just let this pan out,"

"Pan out?"

"Yes, if Dean is interested in that aspect of your relationship then he will make it known,"

Castiel mentally slaps himself as the words pour from between Balthazar's lips.

"But be warned, if he isn't used to the whole boy on boy thing then he might freak out about his feelings and reject you. And trust me Cassy, rejection sucks,"

It is an information overload.

And the itch is burning through his skin.

So he nods tightly and makes haste to his room.

Balthazar's left a little disheartened.

Castiel feels like he's hyperventilating.

What was he thinking?

Exposing his feelings for Dean to Balthazar.

_His drug addicted brother._

He fumbles through his draws.

His room is dark, moonlight peeking through his window.

He can't find it.

The _razor._

He's had so many, but he just keeps losing them all.

Like they go walk about.

But then his hand makes out the thin slice of metal wedged between the pages of a book and he grasps at it.

He pulls his shirt off in haste.

Standing in his jeans he pulls the blade horizontally across his forearm.

It's shallow.

A warm up.

For the dangerous main event.

He cuts again, drags it deeper through his flesh.

His mind zoning in on the pain.

The only thing that's real.

One, two, three more times.

Deeper until he's found the perfect depth.

Deep enough to scar.

He's covered in them.

Both arms.

Wrists to shoulders.

Whiter than white scars that aluminate his skin.

Bumped up flesh that'll never heal.

Always horizontal.

Because he doesn't do it for death.

He tears the wholes, to feel the old familiar sting.

The skin splits easily enough.

Old cuts becoming new

Blood stains the grey carpet.

Trickles down his torso.

He so far gone.

_Why does he always end up here?_

xxxx

Let it pan out.

That's what he'll do.

At least he wants to.

Dean doesn't make it easy.

Picking him up early the next day in his smokin' Chevy.

'_To make up for bailing on you yesterday,'_ He explains with a smile.

Castiel doesn't really have a say in the matter.

Dean doesn't press for any conversation.

Led Zeppelin plays quietly.

There's a dull ache covering his arms.

He wants to scratch at the cuts.

He doesn't.

Because that's _not_ something to do in front of Dean Winchester.

The scenery blurring past comes to a halt.

They're not at the high school.

Dean's pulled off onto a side road.

He shuts off the engine.

There's silence for a minute.

"I…need a minute to think," Dean sighs.

"Now?"

"Yes Cas, now,"

"What's this all about Dean?"

"_You,_"

Castiel's jaw clenches.

_What the fuck?_

"You're bleeding," He then notes.

It's true.

Castiel _is_ bleeding.

He's picked at a cut whilst caught up in a panic of what Dean had planned to say.

There's blood trickling down his left palm, it splatters onto his jeans.

They're black.

It doesn't matter.

"Show me that," Dean instructs.

He pulls Castiel's palm towards himself.

His grip makes it impossible for Castiel to pull away before Dean eases his sleeve up his forearm.

_That's it._

Dean's eyes are trained on what he can see.

The cut seems to be gushing blood.

Other wounds pepper his skin.

"Cas," Dean whispers.

He doesn't let go of his hand.

Castiel looks in horror at his exposed flesh.

Scars and fresh cuts on display.

_Dean knows._

He yanks away from Dean, cradles his wrist to his chest.

"Don't," Castiel orders.

"Castiel-"

"Please be quiet Dean,"

He's breathing heavily.

_Bleeding._

"Let me take care of it," Dean offers.

"What?"

"That needs stiches,"

"It's fine,"

"Jesus, a plaster then,"

Dean leans across him to riffle through the glove compartment.

Castiel can see a sheen of sweat coat the back of his neck.

"Here," Dean mumbles.

He holds his hand out expectantly.

Castiel lets him put a beige plaster on the cut, before covering the arm with his sleeve.

Out of Dean's sight.

"Are we going to talk about this?"

"I really don't want to," Castiel snaps.

"It's _me_ Cas,"

"There is nothing to talk about,"

"Screw that,"

"_Please_ Dean,"

"I'm _not _going to tell you that you have to stop," His tone of voice softens.

"Dean,"

"I _care_ about you," Dean murmurs.

Before he starts up the engine again.


	17. Chapter 17

_Okay so this is a week late! But I had tonnes of coursework. Please forgive me. This is quite short, but I will be making them longer again._

* * *

Lunacy.

That's what it is.

The way Dean's done this.

Dragging him out of school as soon as the final bell sounds.

Buckling him into the passenger seat of the impala and driving the distance to darker haired boy's home.

"Show me," He murmurs. "All of them."

"I-I can't," Castiel whispers.

Because it's true.

And really, _he cannot._

They're standing face to face, eye contact intact, in the centre of Castiel's bedroom.

"Cas, _it's just me_,"

"They're ugly."

Dean exhales breath.

Castiel can feel it against his gaunt cheeks.

Dean doesn't respond.

He takes Castiel's palm warily within his hands.

"It's okay; you don't have too," Dean smiles slightly.

_Yes you do._

He removes himself from Dean, watches as his eyes sadden minutely.

_Do it._

In one fleeting motion Castiel pulls his shirt off and drops it in a pile at his feet.

There's nothing sexual about the way Dean's eyes roam over him.

He's all pale flesh and exposed ribs.

The breeze wafting through the window is cold but his skin feels clammy.

He doesn't dare look down.

Doesn't want to see what Dean is seeing.

So he focuses on the freckled cheeks in front of him.

"Goddamit Cas,"

Castiel's trembling.

No one. _No one, _has ever seen him like this.

After a long while Dean meets his eyes.

"It's okay," He urges. "This is okay."

_What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

Dean leans forward and _hugs _him.

Wraps his arms around Castiel's bare flesh and holds him.

Castiel isn't used to such physical contact.

But he allows it.

Partly for his own desire.

Partly to calm Dean.

"Please don't hurt yourself anymore Cas," The taller boy mumbles into his shoulder.

"I have to," He admits.

"No, no you don't, not like this," There's an urgency there.

"You told me that you wouldn't tell me to stop," Castiel retorts only slightly angry.

He balls the fabric at the back of Dean's shirt within his fists.

He doesn't want to let go.

"I know, _I know_."

"So don't."

"An alternative, there must be an alternative," Dean _almost_ pleads.

He leans back to look into blue eyes.

Castiel's jaw clenches before he shakes his head.

"No."

Dean delicately lets go of him, as if realising their proximity, before stepping away.

It feels an awful lot like rejection.

And just like that Castiel feels over exposed.

He bends to retrieve his shirt before putting it on again.

"Don't be angry with me Dean,"

"M'not," He's standing by the window.

"I've tried."

Dean nods tightly.

"Can I have a smoke?"

"I thought you weren't doing that?" Castiel takes a seat on his bed.

"_I've tried_," Castiel knows he says it out of frustration, but right now it sounds a hell of a lot like spite.

He stalks up to Dean.

_He wants to hit him._

He almost does.

It's the pure worry embedded within Dean's face that changes his mind.

"Fuck letting it pan out," He mutters.

Dean's expression alters to that of confusion.

_Castiel kisses him._

Dean mumbles and 'oh' against his lips.

Before relaxing and going slack against him.

It takes a moment before he meets Castiel's kisses with an equal fervour.

There's a hesitance there.

_Because what on earth is Castiel doing?_

Enjoying the bittersweet taste of Dean's mouth is what.

A combo of mint and hazelnut.

Dean reaches out to enclose one of his hands around Castiel's elbow, before both move down to clutch at narrow hips.

His mouth parts against Castiel's, whose tongue seems to be attempting to feed unnecessary moisture into the pink plushness of Dean's pretty lips.

Dean pants into him

Castiel swallows the air down.

And then Dean licks into his mouth until it gasps open.

_Holy mother of God._

It's not at all what he had been expecting.

That doesn't mean he doesn't go with it.

His hands meet the toned flesh beneath Dean's shirt.

His stomach feels warm and soft.

Dean's tongue still in his mouth before he abruptly stops.

"_Wait-"_ Castiel objects but Dean silences him with a glare.

"What was _that_?"

"I kissed you," Castiel states dumbly, conscious of the fact that his hands are still attached to Dean's torso.

"I know that, but _why_?"

"You're pretty,"

"Jesus Cas, you can't just go round kissing people,"

Castiel shifts from him, hands firmly by his sides.

"_Only you_," He mumbles.

"You _shouldn't_ have done that."

He wants to make a snide remark about how much Dean had seemed to be enjoying himself.

He doesn't.

And there it is again.

That pang of rejection.

"You should leave,"

And now it's Dean's turn to look hurt.

Castiel's really gone and done it.

Xxxx

They don't speak for thirteen says.

Castiel's scared of tension and all things Dean related.

But when the Winchester comes into school with his arm in a cast, Castiel realises he's been very selfish.

Because dean's already suffered enough hurt in his lifetime.

Dean has to walk home.

Castiel takes that as his opportunity to face the green eyed, freckled boy.

He worries momentarily upon realisation that though Dean's arm may be of no use to him, the injury does not deter his ability to run.

Though he doubts Dean would be _that _immature.

Who knows?

He's knows it probably looks like he's stalking the Winchester, but he has to clear this air.

At home everything is pretty calm it's just Dean playing on his mind.

Dean's soft, pretty lips.

Dean's warm mouth.

Dean's…

"Why are you following me Cas?"

Shit.

"What?"

"_Why _are you following me?"

"I need to apologise for my behaviour."

They're still walking rather quickly, crossing over into a wooded area.

"For kissing me or for kicking me out?"

"Both I guess."

Dean stops walking.

"You guess?"

"I shouldn't have kissed you,"

"Well then why did you Cas? Because I've been really fucking confused about it."

"I don't know,"

But of course he does.

"Because if you have some non-platonic feelings for me then now would be a really good time to let me know,"

_I do._

"Dean, I kissed you because I wanted some other form attention, you were looking at my scars and that made me feel uncomfortable, I don't like you _like that_,"

_It's all lies._

_Castiel has always been a liar._


End file.
